[ the desperation in his other half's grip on his arm surprises even him, though it doesn't show in his expression beyond the slight widening of his eyes and the straightening of his back. amongst the two of them, even after tenka kumou sowed the seeds of dissent in his brother, he had still always been the more controlled one. the more stoic one, the one who didn't need the mask to become the mask. these slight differences prickle at the edges of his consciousness, even though he doesn't entire know why, until his other half's words register and what little of the emotional variation in his face freezes.
taken literally, his other half's words make no sense. koutarou is no fool. he knows that he's dead. he died for a reason -- to take two of his brother's enemies into the maws of death so that he could continue to live on. therefore, he knows that he's dead. taken at a face value, those words don't make sense, don't resonate with him, and the plea in his brother's tone as jarring as it is terrible to hear.
if he were any other person, living under any other circumstances, he would've been able to hear the pain in shirasu's voice. to understand the meaning behind the plea, the insanity behind it, the desperation and the solidarity. but fuuma koutarou never lived in a world where he could experience any of those things. at this moment in time, he cannot but take his other half's words literally, because he knows no other way of looking at the world, and no other way of understanding emotion.
therefore, a slight frown passes his face as his own grip on his brother's arm tightens as well, a slight shake of his head. ]
I am dead. [ he says this clinically, because life and death has never meant much to him. ] I died for the clan.
[ "for you", because koutarou is nothing if honest, straight-forward, blunt. he tries again, this time with a hint of confusion: ]
no subject
taken literally, his other half's words make no sense. koutarou is no fool. he knows that he's dead. he died for a reason -- to take two of his brother's enemies into the maws of death so that he could continue to live on. therefore, he knows that he's dead. taken at a face value, those words don't make sense, don't resonate with him, and the plea in his brother's tone as jarring as it is terrible to hear.
if he were any other person, living under any other circumstances, he would've been able to hear the pain in shirasu's voice. to understand the meaning behind the plea, the insanity behind it, the desperation and the solidarity. but fuuma koutarou never lived in a world where he could experience any of those things. at this moment in time, he cannot but take his other half's words literally, because he knows no other way of looking at the world, and no other way of understanding emotion.
therefore, a slight frown passes his face as his own grip on his brother's arm tightens as well, a slight shake of his head. ]
I am dead. [ he says this clinically, because life and death has never meant much to him. ] I died for the clan.
[ "for you", because koutarou is nothing if honest, straight-forward, blunt. he tries again, this time with a hint of confusion: ]
Why do you not live?
[ this is hell... is it not? ]